Warmth ran through Rachel the longer she stared into Sam's eyes in the dim lighting of the parking lot. A peace filled her that she couldn't seem to explain. "I want to stay," she whispered, her pulse quickening as she briefly imagined him as her lover, her protector. Was it true? Was he the missing puzzle piece in her mind?

Silently, Sam exited the car and came around to her side, opening her door for her. After she unbuckled her seat belt, he lifted her into his arms. "What are you doing?" she asked, heart racing at the close proximity.

His fingers flexed over her back and thighs. "You don't have shoes," he replied, his warm breath coasting over her cheek.

"Oh. Right." Rachel took hold of Sam's neck as he kicked the door shut, locking the car and taking her to the room. She gripped tightly with her left hand as he knocked on the door with the toe of his boot, her fingers on her right brushing across the ends of his silky hair. Biting her bottom lip, Rachel felt them, hating how intoxicating it was to be so close to him. What if he was insane and she was just falling right for it? What if he would take her into the room and murder her? No. She couldn't explain it, but this apparent non-stranger stranger was trustworthy. Somehow, she just knew he was.

As Ketch answered the door, she quickly released Sam's hair, a queasiness flowing through her at the sight of him. "Well, I see you've executed Dean's messy plan, much to my disapproval," he mumbled as Sam carried her inside, setting her down on the floor as Ketch closed the door.

"Wait, what?" Rachel asked in shock as she eyed Sam. "So, you set me up." She backed away from them, anger wrinkling her brow. Of course he did. And this is how she would die, because she was an idiot.

"No, no, no," Sam urged, glaring at Ketch. "Ketch is just really bad at phrasing things." He held his hand up as he stepped closer to Rachel. "Look, we knew you were here in New York. We tracked you when you went missing. And me and my brother, Dean, knew we needed to get you to safety, no matter what."

"So, you're kidnapping me," she concluded.

"No. Not exactly. It's your choice to come with me or not, remember? I brought you here to keep you safe. The rest is up to you."

Ketch scoffed. "Good God, you're a soft one. Nothing is up to her, you dimwitted giant. Unless you'd like to see her and the boy filleted by demons, that is."

"Quiet," Sam warned in a darkened tone.

"It's simple really, Pet," Ketch continued, ignoring Sam and addressing Rachel. "We will take you back to the bunker, whether you like it or not, because it's all that will keep you alive. Reason being is, you've a bit of valuable cargo you're carrying. Quite a hot commodity for our far southern neighbors, in case you haven't noticed."

Sam turned to Ketch. "Enough," he snapped. "Give her a minute to breathe, dammit."

Ketch rolled his eyes, walking away toward his bed. "Sure. Take all the minutes you'd like. It's only our lives on the line the longer we delay, after all."

Rachel swallowed hard, watching Ketch flop angrily on his bed, still dressed in part of his suit from earlier. Did the guy ever relax? He seemed wound tighter than a top. And like a major asshole. She flicked her gaze back to Sam, wetting her lips. "Why do they want me?" she asked softly.

Sam gestured for her to sit on his rumpled bed; she complied, watching as he sat next to her. She saw his evident struggle, deciding in that moment to try to be as open minded and patient as possible. He said he could explain, so she would hear him out. "Rachel, when we …" Sam cleared his throat. "Your pregnancy wasn't planned. But through it came a boy with … with powers." He looked over at her. "I have demon blood in me from a demon named Azazel since I was six months old. He's long gone, but I'm the strongest of his chosen children. And now our son is even stronger, because he has demon blood from conception."

Rachel felt herself pale, her lips parting. "You really are nuts, aren't you?"

Sam rubbed his brow. "Rachel, I … Believe me, I know how this sounds, but you're a hunter. Surely what you've seen and killed is pretty damn strange." He examined her. "You saw what I did to those demons. You saw my power." He paused. "How did the first demon die?"

Blinking hard, Rachel was silent. The answer in her mind scared her. Could her unborn child have …? "It's … It can't …" She froze, realizing the way the first demon died was identical to how her baby's supposed father killed them. She looked up at Sam, seeing him patiently waiting, blood still dried all over him and his clothes. In the light of the motel room, his eyes seemed to cut through her, as if he were looking right inside of her. She felt tears run down her cheeks. She was pregnant with a demon. "It died like how you killed the others."

"Shh," Sam urged gently, wiping away her tears with a tender touch. "It's okay."

"So, I'm pregnant with a demon?" she asked through a sniffle.

"No," he assured. "Our son is human."

"How do you know? And how do you know it's a boy?"

Sam lowered his hand. "Castiel told us."

"Castiel?"

"... He's an angel. A seraph."

For a moment, she was silent, trying to forget what he just said for comfort's sake. She had nowhere else to go, but clearly she still had to, because he was delusional. "Well," she said, standing and taking his jacket off and tossing it on the bed, "thanks for, uh, everything, but I have to go. Because … yeah."

Sam stood, moving with her as she approached the door. "Please—"

"Listen," Rachel said, turning to him. She was immediately colder without his jacket, feeling nearly naked in her hospital gown. "I know you think your explanations are logical and relatively normal, but this is all seriously just downright wacky. I mean, demons? Angels? Blood heirs? Really?"

"You saw them," Sam countered. "Hell, you heard them." He stepped closer. "If I'm making this up, then so are they, right? And that would be pretty damn elaborate." She didn't reply. "Baby girl, I—"

Rachel held up her hand, surprised by the choice of pet name he used. It was what he used in her dream. "No. I still don't know you, so … yeah. Absolutely no pet names."

Sam cleared his throat. "Please," he continued softly, "look at the evidence as a hunter. Not as a person who doesn't know what we know." He laid his hand over her upper arm, immediately withdrawing it when she shied away. "All I ask is that you allow yourself to trust me, just a little. The memories … they may never come back. And I know how it all sounds. But I want to protect you, because I—" Rachel watched Sam as he stopped suddenly, seeing the way his tongue curled back to form an L sound. "Because I want you to be safe."

As she searched his eyes, her focus shifted to the blood that nearly covered him. Blood he had shed to protect her. She had called him at three in the morning, and he came, no questions asked. He believed her instantly, even when she didn't fully know what was happening. He risked himself to keep her and the baby she was carrying safe. And now he seemed desperate to keep her close, to protect her, even if she didn't reciprocate the relationship he felt he had with her. She had to pretend to at least half believe in his craziness, if only to help her unborn child. She needed resources before she could survive on her own, and she knew Sam would provide them. She wet her lips, giving him a small nod. "Okay," she whispered. "Where … Where are we going?"

"Lebanon, Kansas," Sam replied gently. "My brother and I have a bunker there. It's where we lived together. You have your things there."

"Oh." She drew the hospital gown around her as she tried to hold back a shiver. Immediately, Sam left her, rooting through his army green backpack and producing a white tee shirt and a pair of lounge pants.

"It's … It's all I have until I get out tomorrow. Then I'll pick you up stuff to get you through to Kansas." He handed the clothes to her, and she took them, running her fingers over the fabrics. They were soft, broken in. It was almost as if she had felt them before. Stop. That. Right. Now. Even if she was leaving New York with him, she couldn't afford to give into his madness. Being under Sam's protection was her best option without Vance, and the only reason to go along with Sam's incredible story.

"Thanks," she said quietly, feeling the cotton as she tried to swallow the sudden wave of nerves that flowed through her. "I, uh, will take a shower after you."

"It's okay," Sam insisted. "Go on. So you can get rest."

With a lingering glance, Rachel took the clothes and headed for the bathroom, Sam watching her until she closed the door with a quiet click. He exhaled a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his hand finding his dirty hair and running through it as he turned away toward his bed. "Bravo," he heard Ketch say behind him, "I didn't think it could be done."

"The truth isn't always a bad idea," Sam grumbled.

"True, but now we've got a larger problem on our hands. You do realize they'll pursue us the entire way back."

"I'm aware."

"Right. So, have you considered acquiring the proper fuel?"

Sam turned and looked at Ketch. "What do you mean?"

Ketch sighed. "Granted, it's not ideal, but God knows how many of these filthy things will be on our tail. It might not be a bad idea to indulge your cravings a bit."

"No," Sam growled, nostrils flared. "There's no way."

"Sam, there's no shame in it, if it's what needs to be done for Rachel's benefit."

Sam scoffed, turning away from him. "I'm gonna go call Dean," he mumbled, leaving the motel room with a bit more force than he intended to. How could Ketch even suggest he drink demon blood around Rachel? He was no longer bound to Lucifer's contract, with him stuck in the alternate world. Besides, if he started drinking it again, the craving would only intensify, and it could damage any chance he had at rebuilding a relationship with Rachel. He could keep her safe with the knife. … Couldn't he?

He took out his cell, dialing Dean's number. "Sam," Dean grumbled, half buried under blankets in bed, "it's like three in the morning."

"Four here," Sam mused, sighing. "She's with us."

"So, you're on the road? Did you have to tie her up?"

Sam shook his head. "Shit, Dean. No. I just told her the truth. After a bunch of demons tried to kill me. We're resting at the motel until the morning."

"Demons?" Dean asked, sitting up.

"Yeah. They seem keen on taking Robbie, because he's Azazel's blood heir."

"Fuck. I didn't even think about that."

"Me either. Guess with Asmodeus and Lucifer gone, they're looking for a new ruler. I think they nearly had the entire floor taken over to try and protect her. I'm just hoping they didn't put anything in her with her IV."

"So, she's okay?"

"She's shaken up, and probably thinks most of my marbles are gone, but for now, she seems compliant."

"She doesn't remember anything?"

"No." Sam drew in a deep breath. "It's like whatever spark she had is long gone."

"She'll come around. There's a lot happening. Once things get quieter, maybe it'll trigger the memories."

"... Or it won't, and they'll never come back."

"Sam-"

"Look, I'm just trying to be realistic here."

"Cart before the horse. Just take it one day at a time, alright? When your soul was restored, it's not like everything came flooding back instantaneously."

"Yeah, and I also went insane." He blew out a breath. "Alright, so I'm going to get back on the road by ten, after I get her some clothes and shoes. We should be back in about two days."

"Just be safe, okay? And call Cas if you need to."

"But isn't he helping you?"

"We're fine here. You need him, you call."

"How's Mom?"

Dean yawned. "She was impressed with how clean we've kept the bunker. Then she remembered Rachel lived with us, and took all the credit away from us."

Sam laughed softly. "And Bobby? Charlie?" He paused. "Jack?"

"Bobby and Charlie have been heading relocation for the others. Jack is …" Dean sighed. "Jack will be okay. I've been trying to keep him busy."

"Good," Sam replied. He wet his lips. "Alright, I have to go. Talk soon."

"See ya, Sammy."

Sam hung up the phone, staring out into the darkness for a few moments as he tucked his phone away. Robbie was in more danger than he realized. Being Azazel's heir hadn't even crossed his mind. Rachel said the other demon died, but she wasn't sure how. It had to have been Robbie protecting her. But he wasn't even halfway through gestation. How powerful would he be when he was born, or when he grew?

Chewing on his bottom lip, he re-entered the motel, seeing Rachel exiting the bathroom, her dark hair wet and fragrant. His clothes nearly swallowed her whole, the pants incredible long on her even though she had rolled the waistband up several times. He couldn't help but smile at her, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and to kiss her, to give her every ounce of himself. But the way she regarded him as a virtual stranger burned; he watched as she ducked her eyes away from his, quietly passing by him in the space he made as she headed for the loveseat. "Wait, what are you doing?" he asked, turning to her.

"Going to sleep?" she said, confused.

Sam laughed softly, shaking his head. "Not on the couch, you're not."

Rachel's lips parted. "I can't take your bed. You'd never fit on the couch anyway."

"I'll be fine. Take the bed."

"... You sure?"

"Of course I am."

She watched as his tongue darted quickly over his lips, recalling her dream kiss with him. Her spine tingled, both intrigued and terrified by the idea of being his supposed lover. "Thanks," she managed, looking away and moving to the bed, seeing how the covers were still rumpled from him likely being asleep when she initially called. Rachel climbed in, sinking into the same side he had used, drawing the blankets over herself.

She pressed her cheek to the cheap motel pillow, drawing in his clean scent that was trapped in the fibers. Sam crossed in front of her, digging through his bag and producing clean clothes before quietly disappearing into the bathroom for a shower. She shivered, an unexpected wave of nerves flowing through her. If he was right, they had shared a bed. What did that feel like? She had a glimpse of it when he carried her-his arms were thick and warm, secure. Despite not really knowing him, she felt safe pressed against his chest.

As she lay quietly, her headache became more pronounced, the swirl of events making her temporarily forget it was there. Since the dust had somewhat settled, it returned. She groaned softly, trying to ignore it as best as she could.

After Sam emerged from his shower, the room went dark; she heard Ketch rustle around on the bed across from her. She couldn't see into where the small loveseat was, where Sam had chose to sleep for the night. He was so tall-at least six foot three or four. He had to be cramped on there. Rachel drew in a deep breath. Should she offer to share the bed? It felt incredibly weird to consider it, but she also felt bad for him.

A sharp pain coursed through Rachel's temples. She grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut as white filled her vision. It was far more intense than her headache had been before. Curling into the fetal position, she silently suffered through the bright ache behind her eyes, hoping not to wake Sam or Ketch. Sam didn't need to worry about this too. She forced herself to try to relax, but instead was met with clear images that scared the living daylights out of her:

Sam gently took her arm, pulling her to stand in a dank warehouse of sorts. She had been crouched in front of something that she couldn't quite see in the dark haze over her vision. Still, she fought him. "No!" she screamed. He held her, she pounding against his arms and chest as he took her away from a large pole she had been near. It was something she cared about. She could feel it deep within her soul.

A dark-haired man in a trench coat took up her flashlight and gun, moving away near Sam as the man who looked like the Dean from her earlier dream moved toward the pole. "No!" she screamed.

"We need to, baby girl," Sam urged, pressing her close.

She quivered against him, clinging to his shirt. She cried out as Dean raised his gun, his hesitation clear. Sam turned her inward to his chest, pressing her head against himself and shielding her eyes as she sobbed and struggled to look. "No, don't," Sam whispered, keeping her tight to himself. "You don't want to."

"Sam," she whispered through her tears.

"I'm here," he reminded her, drawing her as tight as he could to himself to block her view, covering her ears. He braced against her fight to see what was happening, kissing the top of her head. "No, sweetheart," he whispered into her ear, denying her the view she thought she wanted. "Just focus on me. I'm right here. I'm not leaving. You're not alone." Sam kept her blood-curdling scream muffled into his chest as Dean pulled the trigger, firing a round. "Shhh," he shuddered, pressing kisses on her head. "It's over. She's free, baby girl."

Rachel bolted up from the bed with a gasp, Sam's white tee shirt hanging off one shoulder as she shuddered, panting. Sweat beaded her brow, the pain still there, but reduced. What the hell did she just see? Was it a dream? She was awake, though. She hadn't fallen asleep. Had she?

Instinctively, Rachel turned and punched Sam in the face as she felt him lay his hand on her shoulder, startled by his intimate presence and touch. Her jaw dropped when she realized what she had done, and she yanked her fist back. "Oh my God," she whispered, seeing Sam rubbing his cheek in the spliced bits of moonlight leaking through the curtains next to her. "I'm sorry. I …"

"It's okay," he assured with a soft laugh. His expression shifted as he looked her over. "Are you alright?"

"Just a … bad dream." One that made absolutely no sense. Her gaze fell on his chest, the gray V-neck tee shirt he wore highlighting his tanned skin. He looked like safety, peace. And he smelled like soap.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

Sam nodded. He turned toward the other bed when he heard Ketch snore softly. Brow arched, he looked back at Rachel, still squatting beside her. "Sorry about him," he murmured.

"It's okay," Rachel replied. Ketch's snoring was the least of her worries. She swallowed, recalling how tightly he held her in her dream she just woke from. Why was she craving a stranger's touch? Maybe his story is true. Maybe we aren't strangers. "Would you …" She froze, not missing how his eyes were locked on her. "Nevermind," she whispered, tugging on the blankets. No. He definitely has a few screws loose. "Thanks. I'm okay."

Sam stood slowly, gritting his molars together. He had felt her being so close to trusting him, to asking him to comfort her, if even for a moment. Was it only because she was spooked? Or did she begin to recall things? "Get some rest," he urged gently, offering her a brief smile.

Rachel looked him over as he stood, noting he was choosing to sleep in his jeans and boots. Was he afraid they'd have to escape quickly? She watched him walk into the darkness across from her, mostly disappearing from sight, though she did catch his lanky frame as it rested into an armchair. He wasn't even going to lay down. Guilt gnawed on her, looking at the empty space beside her. Still, she laid back down, pulling the blankets to her chin, doing her best to ignore it.